An Iron Distance Race Report

Reader's Digest Version:

An absolutely amazing day. I can't describe how happy I am to have finished Ironman with the support of so many close friends, family members, and Garuna. Honestly it has to be one of the best experiences of my life, hands down. Add on top of it that my brother Mike, and best friend's Dan, Ryan, and Erik ALL FINISHED, and I don't think there is a way to put into words how happy I am.



Detailed Version (note: and Ironman race requires an Iron length race report, sorry but you'll probably want to grab a cup of coffee).

the venue

PRE-RACE STRATEGY:
- Above all...enjoy the day.

SWIM:
- Make the swim as easy as possible
- Breath bi-laterally otherwise you're working too hard.

BIKE:
- Make it in before 5:30PM with as much energy in the tank as possible.
- Don't get discouraged by getting passed by the field.
- Soft pedal the first lap of the bike.
- Be patient, repeat, be patient.
- Don't stop soft pedaling until the first real hill on the second loop (Jay to Wilmington).
- Make sure you make the 5:30OM cutoff by stepping it up on Miles 70-112 if necessary.
- Consume 60% of your nutrition on the first lap.

RUN:
-Calculate my necessary minute-per-mile pace upon leaving T2 and be consistent about hitting each split.
- Continue to eat, eat, eat, and drink, drink, drink.
-Stay positive because it's gonna be brutal!


Amazingly, I was unusually calm heading into transition around 5AM Sunday morning. Not sure why, but it might have been the sick playlist of music which was banging out of the iPod which seemed to keep me in light spirits. Strangely, I couldn't help but picture myself as a deer sitting in the highway just before a big-rig comes barreling around the corner, but I digress.

After doing some final preps to the bike and dropping off my special needs bags I met up with the first contingent of family, friends, and Garuna (hereafter referred to as the IronCrew). I sucked as much positive energy out of the hugs before giving one last kiss to the lady, rounding up my posse (Mike, Dan, Ryan, and Erik) and crossing the timing mat to activate our timing chips. IT'S ON BABY.

pre-race with Mom

Entering the swim corral it was difficult to grasp the fact that I was actually here as a competitor. I felt like a imposter. I was in a hospital bed a year and half ago, wasting away at 112 lbs and barely able to walk. The people around me were probably negatively splitting 800m intervals on the track. Oh well, best to seed myself towards the back! I also expected I would be much more emotional at this point, there was often talk of people cyring just before the gun. Yet I found myself more focused on what needed to be done in the long hours ahead rather than thinking existentially about the meaning of making it to the line. There would be plenty of time for that afterwards.

As the Star Spangled Banner played my mind turned to my best bud Dave, thousands of miles away in Afghanistan, the sacrifices he has made to serve the country far outweigh anything that would happen here, god bless ya bro.

just prior to the cannon

SWIM 2.4 miles: 1:20:52
The cannon went off and the human blender went immediately to puree. Heeding the advice of my younger brother, and Ironman vet I waited until the second verse of "Beautiful Day" blasting out of the loudspeakers to start the swim. By that time the current produced by 2500 iron-swimmers lunging forward was actually sucking me across the start line. How nice.


the blender

The first 1/2 mile was pretty uneventful. The buoys that make the course are held in place by a cable 5 feet underwater which basically acts a lane line. I made my way there by swimming over/under/around hundreds of people, each moment further amazed at the amount of energy people were expending kicking me. I just stayed calm and concentrated on breathing slowly. However, the vibrations from the helicopter hovering overhead took some getting used to.

Somewhere around the first 1/2 of the first lap the skies ripped open and a rain that hasn't been seen since the days of Noah and his Ark streamed from the sky. Little did we know this downpour wouldn't end until somewhere around 9PM.

Approaching the first left-hand turn I stopped swimming, but was actually sucked along by the current that was created by all the swimmers. It was unbelievable!

sucked around the corner

I made an attempt to head back to the cable but everyone had the same idea, and after being punched and kicked one too many times I decided to head for clear water. There were too many people to swim far off course so I settled down, got to work, and soon the beach came up to meet me. Out of the water I looked for our Iron-Crew but the sea of people was too deep, so I crossed the mat and glided back into the water for lap 2. 40 minutes had elapsed and I was pretty stoked.

Unfortunately on the 2nd lap the crowd at the cable didn't let up. In fact it seemed even worse, and everyone seemed to be swimming soooo sloooow. Oh well, I relaxed and decided to stay in the draft and save buckets of energy. Ahhh. I kept repeating to myself, easy, easy, easy.

At this point the pace was so easy my mind actually started to wander, and I started to think about the "Everyday Hero" and how he raised $140K for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I figured I need to step it up in the volunteering area and I began to think of ways to get involved. Hopefully I remember all the good ideas I came up with.

Soon enough the black abyss below turned into sandy beach, and just as quick as it started, the swim was over. I spotted the Iron-Crew near the beach, and they went nuts! It was a nice boost after an hour and half of nothing but bubbly sounds.

Having been a peeler before I knew how to navigate the peeling area and went right to the back of the line to the underworked, overexcited peelers. Lickety split they had my wetsuit off and then began what would only end around mile 8 of the run, shivering!

out of the water

T1: 13:20

I planned to walk the 1/4 mile stretch between the lake and T1 because the 30 seconds saved by running would be long overshadowed by the damage from sending the heart-rate through the ceiling before jumping on the bike. Little did I know that the path was similar to the streets of Pamplona with fellow competitors shoving me to the side as they SPRINTED into T1...good lord. These were probably the same people littered all over the marathon course, cramping, walking, even puking.

After grabbing my bags I looked at the change tent and said, ewwwww. It looked like a steam room with a mud floor. In the door I was greeted by a temperature increase of at least 15'F. NICE. Chairs were scarce so I found a empty table and pulled every bit of clothing in my bag on. I slogged through the mud, and picked up my bike, but not before joking with the handler about drying it off first.

BIKE 112 miles: 8:22:40.
Immediately upon clipping into my pedals I began shivering. Wonderful. Luckily there were tons of sketchy triathletes around me and my mind was focused on not laying down my bike instead of how cold I was. Rolling out of town the legs felt pretty good, and I looked forward to the ~3 mile climb which lay ahead. It turned out to be a good place to get warm. Some dude was blasting "we will rock you" out of speakers in the back of his minivan...sweeet.

climbing out of town

Next came a 6 mile downhill stretch into the Town of Keene. Handling a bike seemed to be one of the few skills I retained after the stem cell transplant and I passed a ridiculous number of people on the hill. Near the bottom I approached a group of 6-8 riders. As I began to pass, a motorcycle attempted to pass me, and out of nowhere some chic comes FLYING past on my left, easily going 10-15mph faster than me. Downright reckless. I looked at the guy next to me and we simultaneously said "she's crazy!". I wouldn't be surprised if she was one of the many people who dumped their machines and ended up in the hospital. Insane.

The next stretch was mostly flat, and cruising into the town of Jay was uneventful. It was a fun stretch of road, but I may have got a bit caught up with the inertia of so may riders going faster than me. It felt very easy turning the gears, but in hindsight I should have gone one to two gears easier.

Most of the IronCrew was supposed to be around Jay so I perked up upon entering town. I completely surprised my Dad when I waved and said hello. I don't think he expected to see me so soon. No one else was there, so the rest of the crew must've been stuck in the traffic jam due to the road closure.

Leaving town the course featured a nice ~1 mile hill. Traffic was stopped going the other way so there were plenty of people supporting from the warmth of their cars. Up ahead there was some screaming, and sure enough it was our IronCrew. They were out in the rain cheering insanely loud. I got an amazing boost from these guys, and it mentally split up the climb. Everyone around me was pumped up too, smiles all around.

IronFans

The next 15 miles went smoothly, and I saw Ryan, Mike, and Erik on different sections of the out and back. Despite looking cold, we each had smiles on which was a good sign.

Most of the first lap I was a really concerned about my nutrition because I wasn't hungry or thirsty at ALL. I had set my watch to beep every 20 minutes, and managed to stick to it for the first 2.5 hours. However, I saw the signs of possibly not being about to stick with the program. This was consuming most of my thoughts at this point. I didn't want mistakes in nutrition to be the end of my race. Ironman would be such a long day that mistakes made early can have drastic consequences later in the day.

Once back to Wilmington the road turned towards home on Rt. 86, and thus began the toughest part of the course. A 11 mile roller-coaster with a uphill trend. The rain was beating down pretty hard, and my neck began hurting, which was a bit discouraging. Just keep spinning, I said.

Before long I approached the last of many uphill sections before arriving back in town. The last climb was packed with fans, which was awesome. Props to the lady beating a huge drum underneath a giant rain poncho. It got my head bopping, and helped tap out a nice tempo with my legs. Some guy told me to keep drinking because "you don't realize how much you're sweating". C'mon dude, look at my lips, their purple! He was still right though, I needed to keep drinking.

Back in town I stopped and picked up my special needs bag. I restocked the bars and gels, and downed some pickles (lots of salt!) and hot tamales, which didn't taste as good as I thought they might when I bought them in the grocery store. I stretched my neck, and jumped back on the bike.

Rolling out of town I was shivering so hard that it was easy to make a really loud hummuna, hummuna, hummuna, sound. People thought this was funny but I frequently heard, "he looks freezing". I am, thanks.

brrrr

The second lap felt pretty similar to the first, but my appetite still wasn't perking up, and I wasn't eating as much as I probably should have. I tried to keep drinking, but I was peeing pretty frequently, and still shivering, so I figured my fluid and energy levels were at least passable.

Climbing past the ski jumps I heard a "woof" from behind, and it was Mike! He was killing it! We chatted for a few, and then he was off. He's now officially the best cyclist in the Hartnett household.

Just before getting into Jay I stopped at the aid station and stretched my neck a bit. One of the volunteers told me my lips were blue and I should go to medical. I told him "thanks, but no thanks" and hopped back on the steed.

Rolling into Jay I wasn't sure if the IronCrew would be waterlogged and taking shelter but I began to hear cowbells, fog horns, blasting music, and plenty of screaming. I got off the bullhorns and waved with both hands and everyone EXPLODED! It was amazing to see so much energy from everyone, even after standing in the rain for close to 6 hours. I slowed down to slap high-5's, and sucked as much positive energy out of these guys as possible. It wasn't hard because they were incredible.

they earned the IronFan badge today

I rounded the corner and saw my buddy Ben Knight and his girl Kristen who came all the way from Burlington, VT. Awesomeness!! Another solid mental boost.

After the climb I stopped at an aid station to pee, and was told again that I should go into medical to get warm. Eff that, they probably won't let me leave!

The out and back to Black Brook went by extremely fast, and I was really happy about that. I had built it up in my mind, and it turned out to go much quicker than expected. Near the turnaround a crew of people starting yelling my name and jumping up and down. I was like, "Sweet, but who are they?" I got the same cheering on the way back and it helped me kick it up a notch on the .5 mile climb back to Wilmington. Turns out it was my cousins Jeff, Alyssa, and Erin. I can't believe they stuck it out in the rain, Amazing!

Just afterwards Erik passed me. We chatted about the race a bit, but I don't remember the details because I was a little groggy at this point. Something about him having to take his jersey off to pee, because he wore cycling bib shorts. Additionally my glasses were all fogged up, so I might have been imagining the entire thing.

untrained Erik Lake destroying the bike course

Another stop at the aid station to pick up some fruit, and another guy telling me my lips are blue. Thanks, didn't notice.

The last 11 miles back to town were pretty fun, albeit slow, but I really enjoyed the last climb up Papa Bear into town. The legs felt good, and I was stoked to be getting off the bike soon. Rolling through town I saw Ryan suffering through his run. He looked like he was in a lot of pain, and didn't notice when I yelled at him. I was pumped he was having such a great race. He was finishing his half-marathon before I was even off the bike.

Ryan shredding the run course on the way to a 4.5 hour marathon and 12:10 long course

T2: 32:34
Rolling into the change tent I saw Mike and Erik and yelled "Hey Fellas!". I think they were surprised to see me. Erik took off quickly and Mike was busy fashioning a rain poncho out of his dry goods bag. Good thing Mom and Dad made us go to Boy Scouts.

2x Ironman and brother Mike with an aero rainsuit

I easily had the longest T2 of anyone in the race. You may be thinking, "what went wrong", but this was actually a calculated move. Basically I was so cold I was shaking uncontrollably. I toweled off, put on some dry clothes, and began asking the guys in the change tent if they could spare a space blanket or trash bag. These guys came up huge and drapped 3-4 blankets, some wet towels, and a trash bag over me. I figured I'd take as long as I needed to get warm before heading out to run. Otherwise I might run into trouble down the road (pun intended). Huge thanks to the 3 guys in the change tent who fashioned me a sick space blanket toga, and finagled out a giant trash bag. It kept the warmth in and the rain out. PERFECT. Without a doubt, these guys saved my race.

At several times in the tent various people tried to get me to go to the medical tent. I was worried that medical staff might not let me leave, so I respectfully declined. This was a no-brainer to me.

After 30+ minutes I felt warm enough to head back out into the rain. Let's get it on!


RUN 26.2 miles: 6:27:07
Walking out of the change tent I glanced at my watch. 5:28PM. That left 6.5 hours for 26 miles. Roughly 15 minute miles would be needed to finish before the cutoff. Time to get to work. Begin feeling of mental anguish.

The first couple of miles out of town I was just pumped to be warm, so I ran the downhills, ate some yummy pretzels and fruit at the aid stations, drank lots of cola and Gatorade, and overall felt awesome. However, mentally things were very taxing. I knew I needed to hit my pace goals, and literally every 2 minutes I was looking at my watch. I had to trust my math, and keep telling myself "you will make it".

At the ski jumps I ran into the IronCrew. Despite the rain they were cheering as loud as ever. I couldn't believe their perseverance...sticking it out in the rain all day long. It prompted me to step it up and rip it downhill past the ski jumps.

ski jumps

The main out and back section, roughly 6.5 miles long, treated me reasonably well. I was eating, drinking, and jogging. My only goal was to make it from mile marker to mile marker in less than 15 minutes. This usually meant I had to run hard the last 2 minutes of the mile, which was working out OK because I still felt like I had a lot in the tank. I power walked the rest of the time. Bobbing my head and swinging my arms to help things along.

I was stoked to be warm, and it showed, because people kept telling me I looked strong. Unfortunately most of them thought I was on my second loop, mistakingly saying "you're almost there!", when really I had a whole additional 13.1 mile lap left to run. This was discouraging, but so what, I was warm, and happy.

I knew coming back into town would be tough because it was mostly uphill, but I was excited to get to my special needs bag, which had a dry jacket and some food in it. Restocked with supplies I headed out on my second lap.

As the light of day faded the sh*t started hitting the fan. The first two miles of the second lap were TOUGH. I had trouble jogging, and my power walk was not all that powerful. I was still right around 15 minute miles, but I desperately wanted to gain some extra seconds on each mile just in case. Add to this that there were barely any runners left on the road, and thoughts of being the only guy out here began creeping into my mind. Again I kept looking at my watch and reminding myself that if I kept the pace, I would make it. Mentally though, this was EXTREMELY straining. The what-if's were overwhelming. And my mind was beginning to get tired. Focusing on my pace was really getting difficult.

Nutrition-wise I forced myself to eat and drink at the aid stations. I really didn't have any appetite, and nothing sounded like it would taste good to drink, but I knew I wouldn't finish while running on fumes, so down the hatch the food went. I had stashed some Espresso flavor ClifShot's in my special needs, and these sounded disgusting but hit the spot once down the hatch. The caffeine didn't hurt either.

Right around mile 15 I heard some yelling from behind me, and to my surprise it was Garuna prancing up behind me! She had run all the way from town to catch up. I was unable to talk coherently, and at this point my ankle was hurting so bad that I was gritting my teeth with each step. After walking together a bit I asked her to tell me a story. She told me all about her long day in the rain, how the other guys were doing, and some other funny stories. She encouraged me every time I mustered the energy to run. She's amazing.

Down the hill past the ski jumps I was literally grunting with each exhale. It hurt pretty bad, but I knew I needed to pound the downhills to keep my 15 min/mile pace. The watch told me I was doing OK, but mentally I was struggling with the possibility of not being able to continue at this pace.

Somewhere on the out and back I saw Dan again. We had passed each other a couple of times during the marathon, and we were always stoked to see each other because it meant we were getting a bit closer to the end of the pain. He was looking comfy this time, maybe because he's an absolute animal.

Dan pounding the pavement

Around mile 17 Garuna stopped and waited at an aid station, and off I shuffled to complete the remainder of the out and back. At this point I started employing the telephone pole technique. I would run from one pole to the next, then walk to the third pole, and repeat. Mentally it was a simple task, and after a while my body just began accepting the pain and inevitability of having to run. Stopping running was strangely tough on the muscles too, weird. It was dark and peaceful out here and as I accepted the fact that I would do anything to keep the pace I needed to finish, the run actually started to become fun again. Painfully fun...but fun.

Not a moment too soon the turnaround point approached and soon after I reached the mile 20 marker. Coming the other way on the road was the last runner on course, followed by a police car. I yelled some words of encouragement, but wasn't too confident she would make it before the cutoff. My watch told me I was still keeping up...in my reduced mental state I hoped I was reading it right.

Slogging along from pole to pole I was happy when I got back to the aid station where Garuna was. I figured she would've walked all the way back to town, but she waited there for me, and I was super happy to she her jump out of the shadows. I was sort of "in the zone" and she scared me a little bit!

Back at the ski jumps my bro Chris, and buddy Adam were waiting. They gave me some great words of encouragement and joined Garuna walking behind me. This was actually super helpful because I could hear them chatting, and in my mind I said "lets drop these guys". I ran hard from pole to pole, and stepped up the intensity on the power walk, and was super happy to have done miles 23 and 24 in around 14 minute miles. I knew this was clutch because once you get into town there are some steep uphills.

I charged up the big hill into town, and at this point the crowds were getting pretty loud and intense. Being the only runner in the area it filled my muscles with energy, and I even ran a bit of the uphills. I couldn't stop smiling. The taste and sound of the finish line were in my head. 2 more miles of this pace and I would make it.

The last 2 mile out and back section was crazy. I had earned back enough time to know that if I just kept a 17 minute/mile pace I would easily finish. All the hard work hitting my splits throughout the day had paid off and I finally relaxed a bit. However I could sense everyone around me was EXTREMELY tense, and not sure if I was going to make it. The uneasiness is peoples voices as they yelled, "you can make it", was palpable. For me though, there was no doubt.

My IronCrew was amazing at this point. They screamed, yelled, ran alongside me, rang cowbells, and made what should have been a tough 2 miles, almost blissful. The streets were lined with spectators all cheering me on, and I couldn't help but show off and ear to ear grin. I looked up at the sky and saw some stars, the first clear sky all day. It's about damn time.

About 5 minutes before midnight I charged down the hill into the Olympic Speedskating Oval. My tank was on "E", but my friends and family gave me whatever strength was necessary to get to the line. I was running on pure euphoria at this point. Cruising under the Ford Ironman arches and into the finishing chute I stopped, raised my hands over my head, and let out a giant scream. I could feel 2 and a half years of pain and struggles exit my body, and I couldn't have possibly been any happier.

I wanted to walk and savor every moment of the finish. The lights and screams from the crowd were simply overwhelming and my senses were overloaded. I couldn't hear the music, the voice of Mike Reilly, or anything else for that matter. I was just completely overwhelmed. I wanted this moment to last forever. As I approached the line somewhere deep inside I gathered the strength to jump over the finish line, and just like that it was all over.

DONE!

the most beautiful IronMate in all the world

IronMen! (sans Erik, he was chugging a milkshake)

brothers Mike, Chris, and Mom

The embrace of my fellow athletes, family, and friends was amazing. I felt like the anxiety in their voices and faces had finally been released and we could all celebrate unadulterated and with a clear conscious. It's a feeling I will never forget.

Looking back, the race was extremely difficult from a mental standpoint. I felt I was pretty prepared for the physical challenges, and never felt like I wasn't going to be able to make the mileage. Speed was always an issue, however, constantly thinking about pacing, nutrition, and staying warm was TOUGHEST part. Staying focused was paramount, and it was really, really difficult at times during the race. I never really relaxed until about 2 miles left in the run. I can confidently say that walking down the finishing chute was like strolling through the pearly gates.

Big thanks to all my supporters, fellow Ironmen, friends, family, and Garuna. It would've been all to easy to throw in the towel without you being there for me.

All the best,
-Jeff

PS. No I did not sign up for the race next year, but this will definitely not be my last Ironman.